Driving home on Thursday evening from a meeting in Miamisburg, I happened to turn the corner at the end of our road just as the last light from the sun was fading. I looked down and along the creek (Little Twin Creek) and the still-bright reflection was beautiful against the nighttime woods. I thought I would come back at about the same time and try for a picture. Here it is:
This is a gentle creek for all of the years I've lived here but for one. On that night it overflowed and spilled across the bridge and covered S. Clayton Road. At 3 a.m., Sam and I got into his old truck and surveyed the surroundings, mostly underwater. But otherwise, this tranquil spot looks forever like this picture.
This is where the blue heron often stands, the one I wrote about in Pinehaven. I have seen "him" many times in recent weeks, standing there, bent on watching the water flow at his feet. I've seen him flying over the house, too, legs bent back and folded, trailing behind him like two twigs. Every now and then, I see two.
After I got home and parked the car, I walked across the road and out into the corn stubble, set up the tripod again and shot back towards the house. What an eerie, haunted sight this house is at that time of evening! I'd almost be afraid to live here if I didn't!
Look at the two first floor windows, lit by candle lamps in each and slightly backlit by a light or two within the living room. As I stood taking the picture, a dog to the south saw (or heard) me and barked incessantly. Otherwise, the scene was serene and still.
What a wonderful time of day, when most return to their homes and set about preparing their nest for another night. We are all birds in that respect, returning to our usual roost. I am happy to call mine Pinehaven.